


Old Things Turn To Rot

by empathy_junkie



Series: RGU Poems for Maxiumum Sad [4]
Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Anger, Bitterness, F/F, Gen, Poetry, Revenge, Sad Little Girls, This is as graphic as my shiori brain would let me be so, prose poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathy_junkie/pseuds/empathy_junkie
Summary: shiori's oh-so-eloquent thoughts upon discovering the contents of Juri's locket during the Black Rose Arc
Series: RGU Poems for Maxiumum Sad [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646533
Kudos: 9





	Old Things Turn To Rot

You won't see me. You don't deserve to look.

That set of thin, small shoulders that never came up to yours,

The hint of two breasts you're probably too much of a coward to hold in your hands on those nights when you hold that metallic globe instead -

You've captured all of me, sweetest, what could compare?

Do you want to know what I smell like, inside?

If you'd let me get closer, you'd taste my shampoo at least.

Dispel it quickly from your nostrils like it was something

Intoxicating,

Like something out there existed, had grown up, been pruned, and punished, and was ready now to weaken you with its very existence.

Do you see me as a little flower, sweetest?

Do you hear me as a letter?

As the sugared little words I used to write to you when we were far apart and you really had no choice?

Darling, dearest. Such silly little words. Did they make you ache, inside?

Did they hurt more than the brush of my skirt against your straight, bony thigh?

Would you even prefer a lesser evil?

You don't know evil at all.

I could show you.

But, could I, really?

Could the girl with a smile familiar as waking drag you downward by the tongue pull you inward by the neck take you apart under the gaze of a golden sun?

Surely, she lies locked in darkness.

Pressed against your chest; flowers dried up.

It isn't me you've watered with your tears. It isn't me you've pleased with restless thoughts and big, brave choices.

Sweetest, dearest. You've made me angry.

And you don't deserve to look.

But you will.


End file.
